


Concupiscent

by ChocoToasties



Series: EchoNoir [3]
Category: Marvel Noir, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Aftercare, Banter, Blow Jobs, Cowgirl Position, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Missionary Position, Oral Sex, Safer Sex, Sexual Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24696109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoToasties/pseuds/ChocoToasties
Summary: After a fun time on date-night, Etta and Peter goes all the way for the first time.
Relationships: Peter Benjamin Parker/Original Female Character(s), Peter Benjamin Parker/Reader, Peter Benjamin Parker/Spidersona
Series: EchoNoir [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632535
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Concupiscent

Scarlet and marigold leaves blow in the crisp air of a Thursday night. The streets in Hamilton Heights were quiet, at least, as silent as a neighborhood in Manhattan can get. The noise is minimal enough for a strolling young couple to have a conversation without having to yell.

"I still can't believe you punched the guy in the plant costume!" Peter laughs, holding his stomach.

Etta folds her arms, indignantly, "That's on him for grabbing my hair! I didn't know they were gonna pull the theatrical ending like that, but even then, who taps someone's head during the plant attack?!"

"You still balled up about it?"

"Nah. Other than that stupid bit tonight was nice. You ready to turn in?"

"Nope. Why?"

"Good. I have one last thing in mind for the night."

"Is that so?"

* * *

The instant Etta locks the front door to her apartment, Peter picks her up, riding up her blue dress in the process, and presses her against the foyer wall. Etta drops her keys, giggling at his boldness, only to be interrupted by his lips on hers. It's a warm greeting- her plump lips meld excitedly against his slightly chapped ones. Through lip contact, they converse about their anticipation for tonight's highlight.

Peter softly pushes his tongue past Etta's lips, turning his head more to deepen the kiss. Their tongues swirl around each other as their bodies grind. Wandering hands roam, grabbing at anything to anchor themselves. Their teeth clack against each other, and their lips bruise. 

Etta pulls away with a smack, smiling cheekily at Peter's eager chase of her retreating lips, "We should probably get to bed. Unless you plan on fucking me in the hallway?"

Peter gives her a dark look. "Don't tempt me."

Etta laughs out loud. It rings like bells through the hallway as Peter carried her to her bedroom. He sets her down on the bed gently, but before he could straighten up, she pulls him on top of her. She presses herself against him, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist and flips him over. She sits up, pulling him by his tie to make him follow into another kiss, this one more hungry, frantic. 

Peter's hands automatically curl around her waist, drawing her even closer, unashamedly skimming lower to grab her ass and grind his hips up against hers. His mouth tears from hers and goes to her neck. His nips at her throat and sucks her earlobe, loving the whimpers he elicits from her. He revels in the friction of her rubbing against his trousers. It isn't until Etta's hands push his shoulders that he snaps out of his lust-filled haze.

He sucks his teeth as he retracts one hand at a time from her thighs, slipping his arms out of his blazer. Etta slips it off of his shoulders, and he kicks off his shoes with an audible "thunk" on the floor. The button-down follows. Her hands run down his clothed torso to pick at his undershirt, pulling at the bottom tucked in his trousers and pulling it over his head.

Etta runs her hands adoringly across the planes of Peter's scarred body and marvels at it. This wasn't the first time she's seen him topless - there have been nights of first aid after a case went wrong or a calm shower session after a long day. It just always felt like a new experience. At first glance, Peter looks like a wiry beanpole, especially with the dull clothes he always wore to hide his athletic physique. She's happy to have this secret to herself. 

Sinewy muscles relax upon contact with her nimble hands. The coarse, dark hair dusted across Peter's chest and arms stand up at the sensation of her caresses. The low rumble of his laughter rolls in his chest when she touches a tickle spot on his side. Her fingertips trace over the definition of muscles of his abdomen, down the dark trail leading to his trousers. When she reaches in between them for his belt buckle, he grabs her hand.

"Not so fast, doll. You're still wearing too many clothes."

Etta leans forward, pressing her lips near his ear, "Undress me then."

His hands reach behind her back, and their lips meet again. He tries to pull down the zipper of her dress, but it wouldn't budge. He pulls harder but gets halted by Etta biting his lip.

"Pull down the fabric, then the zipper," she laughs.

The dress loosens, and it doesn't take much effort to pull it over her head. It's Peter's turn to stare in wonder. A blue lace bralette covers her small, heaving breasts, not doing much to contain the pert nipples poking through the fabric. Light scars - faint because of her healing factor but clear in his enhanced eyes - contrast against her warm brown skin. Many of them are identical to his in nature: the occasional cut caused by a previous knife fight or a piece of shrapnel from an explosion. There was also the small bullet wound from that Gold Sharks mission. Though, none of them did nothing to mar her beauty.

Peter attaches his lips onto Etta's chest, kissing the top of her small breasts as he fondles with the clip of her bra. The straps drop down her arms as her breasts become free and naked in front of him. Peter's lips find her nipples, and he pulls one into the warm caverns of his mouth, sucking at it.

The way she arches her back into the feeling makes him chuckle, low and sultry. Her fingers tangle in his hair, looking for something to hold onto. He grunts - she tugged a bit too hard - but settles again, moaning against her skin when she lightly scratches the back of his scalp. His teeth graze her nipple, and he sucks just a little bit harder. Overcome by the feeling, she loses track of how long he spends on her chest, leaving hickeys on her skin while grinding into her.

"Pete," Etta breathes, "Let me go."

Peter latches away from her, chuckling, peering up at her with a pout. "Somebody's getting impatient."

"You telling me you  _ don't  _ want my mouth on you?" Etta scoffs raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't say  _ that _ -"

"Then pass me a pillow. I want to suck you off.  _ Now." _

Peter peels his hands off Etta's thighs, unwrapping them from his waist and allowing her to stand. She starts to fumble with his belt buckle, fingers tracing gently across his lower abdomen. He's tempted to say something  _ else  _ about patience but is cut off by her soft hand palming him. She already had his pants halfway open.

His jaw clenches as Etta pulls his pants the rest of the way down. His head falls back as she pumps him slowly. Her soft lips press openmouthed kisses up and down his length. Her tongue twirls teasing circles around the head, and her other hand joins the mix, grip firm. 

Peter whimpers, "Doll, please, don't tease me like that. I need- oh".

She finally takes him into her mouth, minding her teeth as she goes down on him. She sends ripples up his spine as she moans against his skin. Peter threads his hand in her hair to guide her head up and down. Her mouth descends even further, nose starting to brush the dark hair near the base and spit starting to dribble past her lips. He slowly fucked her mouth, pulling out and nearly losing himself at the view of webs of spit and precum that connected them. She looks fantastic like this, eyes half-lidded and mouth full of his cock. It's almost too much.

Etta brings her hands back into the mix, one massaging his thigh while the other fondles his balls. The sounds of him sliding in and out of her mouth become more obscene. Her eyes tear up a bit as she suppresses her reflex, and her jaw gets tired. She taps his thigh so he can let go, and hollows her cheeks and pulls off with a loud 'pop.'

"Give me a minute," Etta pants apologetically.

Peter scratches the back of his head, "Sorry about that. Do you wanna stop-"

"I  _ want _ to keep going. Just give me a minute."

She goes back to slow stroking as she catches her breath. She can't take her eyes away from how pretty Peter looks: hair in his eyes, lips bitten, heaving chest, thick cock hanging out. It's true, she doesn't  _ have _ to keep going, but seeing him undone is priceless.

Etta drags her tongue up the side of him before wrapping her lips around the head and descends again. She takes as much of him as she can, gagging on him. The noise earns a soft groan from Peter, whose hand tightens in her hair. She could tell he was close; he was practically throbbing in her mouth, and her tongue was getting greeted with the saltiness of precum. She sucks him even  _ harder,  _ her hand jerking him with more determination. She wants to taste him. She  _ needs  _ to taste him. Peter's hand in her hair tightens, and with a low grunt, he cums.

Peter's eyes finally open to see Etta's lips still wrapped firmly around him, draining him for all he's got. A trail of spit drips down her chin, her neck, her collarbone, a little over her small heaving breast. When he notices that her other hand was out of sight, he chuckles.

"Were you touching yourself just now?"

Etta releases him with another 'pop' -he thinks he loves that sound- and grins, "I couldn't help but get into it."

Her other hand, the one that was occupied with self-pleasure, detaches from her lace underwear. Her fingers are soaked. When she reaches up to clean them off, Peter grabs her wrist, staring into her. She slides her fingers over his warm tongue as he licks and sucks away the cum that had made its way onto her hands. When he pulls back, he kisses her palm.

"Come on," he says, pulling her up and setting her on the bed "It's your turn."

His lips descend down her lithe body, kissing over the expanse of her stomach until he reaches her underwear. He's stopped by a snicker.

"What's so funny?" he asks, pulling down her lace panties to reveal a small thatch of curls, shaped into a heart and dyed his favorite shade of blue. "Etta, you didn't."

Etta's laughter fills the room. "You should see your face right now!" she wheezes, "I wanted to do something special since this is the first time we're going all out and all." She scratches the back of her head. "Do you like it?"

Peter gives a light chuckle, his warm breath drifting over her, making her shudder. He gently spreads her thighs apart with warm hands. His grey irises, impossibly darker, peer into her umber ones.

"Yes," he says, his tone a direct contrast to the lighthearted tone he'd used just before.

A small whimper leaves Etta's mouth. Her legs tense and relax frantically, and Peter has to keep some pressure on her thighs to keep her in place. She arches her back once he runs his tongue against her folds, and he chuckles against her.

He licks a little more carefully, tasting her, and moves a little higher, brushing her clit making her almost cry out. His thumbs spread her folds apart, his nose bumps against her mound, tongue greedily lapping and prodding and delving inside her. Her hips start to rock into his face now. She covers her mouth with her arm, not wanting to make any weird noises and ruin the moment.

Oh, she couldn't think anymore. Peter was practically  _ devouring  _ her. Her hands pull at the covers on the bed without her realizing it, and she lets out an involuntary cry when a familiar shiver of tension settled firmly between her legs. Then it halts.

Etta shoots her head up and scowls at her boyfriend. "Why'd you stop?"

Peter looked back at her defiantly. "I want to hear you."

"But-"

"Please? Won't you sing for me, Canary?" He runs his hands up and down her thighs, pouting. The way he looked at her with his disheveled hair and smoky eyes and crooked smile made her heart and core ache.

"Ugh, fine," she huffs, averting her gaze.

Peter removes a hand from one of her thighs and runs his fingers along her entrance. Peter slides in one finger, then a second, curling his fingers just so to make Etta's toes curl.

"Fuck, I love it when you do that."

He presses his fingertips along the surface of her inner wall, slowly hooking his fingers in a "come hither" motion, "This?" He mumbles against her.

_ "Yes." _

Peter's face dives back onto her. His tongue works on her clit while his fingers continue their ministrations. His other hand pins her down, locking her in place. Etta's thighs encase around Peter's head, her fingers pulling at his hair. She can feel that tension building up even faster.

"Fuck- Peter," she panted. "Peter."

Her cries spur him on. He shows her no mercy, switching between sucking and licking her fervently. His fingers work her even faster. He could feel her locking up as her legs trembled, threatening to fall from their position around his head. He removes his hand from her and grips both of her thighs, mouth giving undivided attention. She clenches around him, trembling in her climax. A tittering laugh leaves her as she relaxes against the mattress.

"Etta?" Peter calls concerned.

She blinks and stretches her limbs out. "Sorry, I dazed out."

"Guess my mouth works miracles," he says, absentmindedly licking some of her off the left side of his mouth. "You practically drenched my hand-"

Etta snorted, "You were just fucking my mouth a couple of minutes ago."

"Fair. Where to find the condoms?"

"Top drawer on your right."

The wood gives a light screech as Peter pulls it open. He gives a low whistle at the sight inside. 

"What is this?" He asks, pulling out a small bullet-shaped device.

"Something you can use on me later. You got the box?"

Peter tears open a small package and fumbles to put the condom on. "Yep. How do you want me?"

Etta sits up and reaches to help him. "On your back. I heard that cowgirl is a better position to start with."

"I see," he muses while he lays down on the bed, "Is having me under you while you're in charge of things an added bonus?"

"Maybe." She grins while straddling him.

Peter doesn't even have the time to respond before she lowers herself onto him, closing her eyes momentarily when he fills her. He is so hard inside of her, and Etta stills, her body holding him in her heat. Then he shifts, a movement only meant to make him more comfortable so that he can easily hold on to her waist. But it makes him flex inside of her, and she closes her eyes for a second.

"Oh, fuck."

"You okay, doll?"

She nods her head and rises, clenching her walls as she does, and rotates on the way down. After a few test strokes, she slowly picks up the pace, bracing her hands on his head's side for balance. For now, Peter lets her take control, happy to watch her slide up and down his length. He holds the base of her waist with both of his hands as she rides him, turning this into a sort of synchronized dance.

Etta moves her hands onto his chest. Her hips grind against him faster, harder this time. Somehow she opens up more for him and takes him even  _ deeper _ , and she can't help but let out a whine. Peter slides his hands over her hips until he's got a firm hold of the globes of her ass. His hips buck to meet hers in tandem as her hands roam his torso. She lightly scrapes her nails across a nipple and then the other (his breathing grows ragged, and his movement falters - she laughs). Her fingertips tap random patterns down the hard planes of his torso until they meet his hip bones. She bounces down, squeezing him just as she presses that tickle spot, Peter  _ growls  _ and flips her over onto her back, still inside her. His hands land against the side of her head, his face close to hers, her eyes blown and his hair wild.

"You keep doing that," He gasps in between moans, "I'm gonna come a lot sooner than later."

"Isn't that the point? _ " she laughs. _

He leans forward, lips brushing the shell of her ear, "Not until I've made you scream my name."

Just the way he says it gives her butterflies. She's lost for words, and he pushes into her, harder. His hips set a brutal pace this time, practically screwing her into the mattress. Her legs wrap around him, and her hands grip his back. His muscles flex and release under her fingers as he drills into her, and she loves it. Suddenly they're kissing again, groping and grinding against each other as their tongues clash.

He’s by her presence. The fruity smell of her hair mixed with the nutty scent of her perfume fills his nostrils. Her soft lips glide over his. Her long legs wrap tightly around his waist, the heels of her feet press against his ass to encourage him. Her fingers dig into his back and a higher-pitched moan leaves him as her fingers dig into his skin. His body curls more into hers, grasping her closer until it is almost unbearable, being so close but so far from release at the same time.

His mouth rips from hers and moves to her neck, sucking bruises into her delicate skin. He reaches a calloused hand between them, thumb rubbing tight circles against her clit while his other hand snakes around her waist. Her moans are getting louder as she clenches around him, hips losing synch with his as she gets closer to release.

"Peter~" Etta keens against his ear.

"Don't hold back, doll," he breathes, kissing her neck. "Let me hear you again."

She tries to gasp for air and cry out at the same time as the climax Peter had been carefully coaxing her towards washes over her. She closes her legs around his waist as her toes curl from the intensity. It's not long before his breathing is hard and labored, his body on fire, the muscles in his arms and thighs shaking in the effort. Peter's hips stutter quickly, losing all sense of rhythm as he reaches his own climax. He stills, back bowing, and collapses on top of her. They stay like that for a moment, just breathing the same air until Peter pulls out and rolls over. As he disposes of the condom, Etta stretches her limbs and rises to get out of bed.

Peter's hand grabs hers. "Where are you going?"

Etta's eyebrow raises, and she gives him an affectionate smile. "I'm getting a towel and something for your back," she mused. "You don't wanna get sticky, right?"

He recoils at the thought and releases her. When she rises to leave, she stumbles and falls back on the bed. They share a knowing look and laugh. He opts to get everything instead as she sprawls on the bed to wait. Peter returns quickly enough, also bringing a couple of bottles of water. 

"I love you so much right now!" Etta cheers, grabbing a bottle and taking a few gulps.

Peter chuckles while settling next to her, "I hope that's not the only reason."

She pauses her drink to laugh. "Nah, I just spend my weekends hanging in your universe because of your great waiting skills."

"I love you too."

They're gentle with each other, careful to mind each other's scratches and bruises; the healing factor can only do so much after all. Once they were sufficiently clean, they slip into bed and curl into each other. Peter nuzzles into Etta's neck and wraps his arms around her, giving her butt a small squeeze. She can't help but laugh, planting a lingering kiss that he eagerly reciprocates, and nothing more needs to be said.

**Author's Note:**

> Points to whoever can guess what show they went to see!


End file.
